Hope
by ferretmalfoi
Summary: A simple Draco and Luna one-shot.


A DraLuna Fan fiction**  
**

In the chilling eve and tense atmosphere, he could feel the heat of a gaze lingering on the back of his head. He knew exactly whose silvery grey eyes the gaze belonged to. There was only one person who could stare so intently and fixedly for this amount of time and that was Luna Lovegood.

There was no one quite like Luna Lovegood. She was mad, that was irrefutable, but she was everything else too. What you saw in Luna depended on what you wanted to see in her. That is, if you looked past her peculiar choice of clothes and home-made jewellery that almost begged for negative attention. Never the less, Luna was everything. She was forgiving and searching, formidable and warm, endlessly kind and ominous. And her stare was boring into his skull.

It was the same look he had received from her when he feigned complete disinterest at her capture and detainment in his cellar. He didn't want to but he had no other choice. If there was one thing he had learned from his father, it was that caring is a weakness.

He had always wanted to impress his father but father only ever spoke of Potter. Draco knew right away that if he could get Potter to be his friend, his father might be impressed but Potter was so sincere; everything that Draco could be if he hadn't grown up under the same influences and everything Draco still wanted to become. Draco loved his parents dearly. Why else would he have taken out every shed and scrap of anger he had ever suppressed out on the boy that stopped his parents from loving him back?**  
**

It doesn't matter, Draco thought to himself, he was surely going to die tonight. The Dark Lord would make sure he died tonight among the masses. The Dark Lord could make it look like Draco was tread on and crushed by the innocent victims of this war and use his death to fuel his parents into killing more innocent wizards and even muggles.

Draco couldn't begin to imagine what the Dark Lord would do if he found out that Draco had actually helped Potter. He thought of Luna. He had sort of helped her but he knew it was not enough because here they were now. When he realised that Luna was no longer staring at him, he turned around to check if she was still there. He would worry if she wasn't; they were in the middle of a war, for Merlin's sake.

She was standing behind him as he imagined. There was darkness smudged across her face from fighting and he couldn't bare to see marks of conflict on her pale complexion. He wanted to raise his hand and wipe away the smudges to reveal her. Maybe he could wipe away this dreadful moment in time. She looked down at him. That was how they spoke. Stolen glimpses and unspoken promises.

When Draco had shut the cellar door, he had given Luna a look. He had no idea what she would interpret it as but he feared she wouldn't see it as a symbol of hope. He was never good with positive emotions. Malfoy had mastered feeling nothing at all so he could be as ruthless as his fellow death eaters but when he thought of Luna, he felt something he couldn't name. It was like being raised from the dead. He liked the feeling she gave him but he knew he shouldn't. And he couldn't seem to stop thinking about her. Take now for instance, how long had he been watching her? Trying to capture her endless beauty?

Anyway, Draco had thought of the look as a sort of promise to help her as much as he could. He just hoped she realised that. She had looked back with a look so endearing, he felt his heart drop and shatter. Now she looked at him with an expression he couldn't name. Sympathy? Pity? He gulped and nodded his head. She gave him a sombre smile. It would say "Everything is all right" if they weren't gathered around Voldemort and Death Eaters while their words hit the floor around them.

Draco was trying not to listen. It was probably just another speech about giving up and succumbing to wizarding supremacy.

Where were his parents? He scanned the thousands of death eaters for his fathers raggedy hair and face and his mothers unique hairstyle. Once he spotted them, his eyes immediately hit the floor and as soon as he looked up, both of their eyes were on him.

Without bringing any attention to herself, his mother raised her hand and then slowly moved her fore-finger in a "come here" motion. Draco needed to find a way to get across the stretch of rubble and space between them but the last thing he wanted was to be noticed. Or leave Luna's side. _No, no no! Forget about Luna! _

Draco came to a halt when he saw the opening beside him. He knew it went around the castle and directly into the forbidden forest and although it had been the place of nightmares before, it now seemed much more like an oasis. However, his mom was still watching, waiting for him.

Suddenly, there was movement in the crowd he was standing in and Neville Longbottom's head emerged. Draco couldn't help but to snort. _Merlin's beard, does he have no sense at all? Does he really think he could stand up to the Dark Lord? I know he's stupid, but..._

_And what's the Dark Lord doing? Answering him calmly? How come the Dark Lord could talk to his enemy's with so much respect but not his own followers? What were they even saying? _Draco tried to tune in..

"...pure-blood..." _That explains it, _Draco thought, _he's trying to get Neville to convert_. Draco snorted again. _As if the Dark Lord would value Longbottom as a death eater! _There was more commotion and Draco still couldn't see or hear what it was about so decided to slip away to the forest. He couldn't bare it. He didn't hate Neville. The only person Draco hated right now was himself. He didn't want to see anybody die. He had never wanted any of this.

The sight of trees and greenery faded away from him as quickly as it had appeared. _Am I crying? __Merlin!_ He wiped away the tears but they kept on flowing and soon enough his sleeve was too damp to even consider wiping his eyes. He was a blubbery mess, really weeping now and he didn't even know why. It was as if he was letting out every emotion he had ever held in. All the times he had ever put a brave face on when really he was the weakest person alive and all the times he had ever tried so hard for something but it wasn't good enough and all the times he had been surrounded by friends but felt a crippling loneliness threaten to drown him. He descended deeper and deeper into the woods out of fear someone would find him. He started running, faster and faster, until he couldn't hear shouting any more or imagine wand-waving or see the place he had called home for the last seven year crumbling to the ground.

"Draco.."

"Draco..."

He didn't recognise the voice - he was pretty sure he was imagining it. _I must have gotten some filthy muggle disorder! Now I'll have to go to St. Mungo's for sure! What other explanation was there_? How could a real voice sound like something from a dream? The voice was like a melody that planted flowers in the darkest parts of his mind, giving him hope and inspiration, and it was like a lullaby, soothing and calming him. Then he realised...

"Luna!"


End file.
